


The Complexion of Dying

by oatsandcocoa



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Also slightly OOC?, Hospitals, M/M, Please don't burn me alive?, Soulmates, Soulspace, flats, not too sure, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:42:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oatsandcocoa/pseuds/oatsandcocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is just this terrifying creature that takes you away against your will… right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Complexion of Dying

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no idea how this happened.  
> Discl.: None of the characters mentioned belong to me, it's all Chris Nolan's, I just borrowed them for non-profitable purposes.  
> Non-beta'd, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
> PS: I have no idea about paragraphs, so, try not to eat me alive?^^

When someone asks you: “If Death were a person, what do you think they’d look like?” a lot of people might say that they don’t think Death has a face. That, whoever Death is, doesn’t show their face, to no one. That Death is just this terrifying creature that takes you away against your will…

 

Arthur feels weirdly rested and calm when he wakes up in a room he doesn’t recognise. That is, of course, when he starts to panic a little inside, because, how strongly must he have been drugged to be kidnapped so easily? Shaking off the remainder of dizziness, Arthur takes in his surroundings, while simultaneously going through his pocket in search of his token. He hadn’t known how much he had tensed up until he feels his shoulders relax as soon as his fingers grab the weight and form of his die. 

In that moment he also realises that he isn’t alone after all.

 

Eames is sitting in an armchair in the far corner of the room, watching Arthur with his familiar grey eyes sparkling with fondness. Arthur’s eyes widen.

 

“E-Eames?” Arthur gasps.

 

“Arthur, darling, it’s good to see you,” Eames says warmly, full lips turning into a smile. A smile that Arthur had longed to see again for so long. 

“But you’re dead!” the point man exclaims, and isn’t even surprised by how much it sounds like an accusation. Eames’ smile deflates significantly. “I am dead, pet,” the forger states quietly, a bitter bite to his voice.

 

Arthur startles. If Eames is dead and yet, Arthur could still see him, hear him and talk to him, did that mean- “Am I dead?” he thinks aloud the last part. 

 

Eames chuckles. 

“That would be the only logical conclusion, wouldn’t it? No, you aren’t dead, Arthur. Not yet anyway,” he says, sounding pained. “You’re in what would have been our flat, hadn’t I kicked the bucket,” Eames adds quietly, his usual mirth gone from his expression. He also doesn’t look at Arthur, instead choosing to watch a bird settle on a tree outside the window.

“Wait, if this here is what our shared flat would’ve looked like, how can I be here, if I’m not dreaming?” 

 

The question doesn’t even remotely seem to catch Eames off guard. 

“You are currently residing in what is called ‘Soulspace’. It’s the place your soul goes before your last seven minutes of brain activity kick in; essentially, when you’re nearly dead. No one knows how it works exactly, but it shows you things that would’ve happened a bit further down the line. It doesn’t show you people, just places, like a flat you’d have lived in, or a country you’d have visited. It also leaves you clues whether or not you’d have had a family, stuff like that”, the forger explains.

Arthur arches an eyebrow. “Then, with all due respect, what the fuck are you doing here?” he inquires.

Eames dramatically covers his heart with one hand. “Darling, you wound me! Did you really think you’d ever be rid of me?” he teased. When Arthur’s expression darkens, Eames quickly grows serious again.

“I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have said that”, he apologises. 

“You’re damn right, you shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair, you know? How would you have felt to open the door to Ariadne telling you I’d been shot? You were only supposed to be gone for two weeks for that fucking job AND YOU NEVER CAME BACK!” Arthur screams, hot tears running down his cheeks, blurring his vision as he gets up and stumbles towards Eames. “You were supposed to come back to me!” he chokes out, and punches Eames square in the jaw, blinded by heartache and grief and anger. 

 

Eames ignores the pain and pulls Arthur flush against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man, cradling him while sobs rack the point man’s body. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, willing down the burning behind his own eyelids. 

 

Arthur lets himself be held by Eames for a moment, his chest aching with longing, and his throat sore from crying, before he steps away and stubbornly wipes his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. 

“Why are you here, Eames? If this is supposed to be my Soulspace, then why are you here?” Arthur repeats the questions, only a slight tremor left in his voice. He had always been one to level his emotions quickly.

 

Eames’ hands are still on Arthur’s upper arms as he lets out a sigh and continues his explanation. 

“In most cases, a person’s Soulspace is reserved for them alone. But there are exceptions, like you and me, where, in case one of them has already died, the other comes to their Soulspace and is received by the other in what is referred to as Shared Soulspace. There is something quite cheesy about soulmates and whatnot, but the point is; you and me, darling, we share a Soulspace. That’s why I’m here,” he finishes and looks at Arthur, not expecting the tiny, but genuine smile that graced Arthur’s features. 

 

“It seems I really can’t get rid of you, hm?” Arthur asks soft-spokenly, startling a small laugh from Eames.

“No, darling, it seem like you really can’t,” he smiles. Then, after a while of just staring at each other, Eames grows sober again. “I’d give you a grand tour, but there isn’t much to look at, unfortunately. Apparently, we’d have settled down in Sweden, and lived a quiet life. Oh, and we’d have a child! I’m not sure how, adoption or surrogate, depending on whether or not the second is actually legal in Sweden, but we’d have had one.” 

Eames is silent again. 

 

“So, now that you’ve told me where I am and why I’m here, what is supposed to happen now?” the American asks, not sure if he actually wants to know the answer. That doubt only grows stronger when he sees Eames face breaking, the sadness and despair rolling off him in waves. 

“Eames?”

“Normally a stranger does this, but I guess since we share this place here, the task’s gonna fall to me. I have to take you back to you now, and then you’ll have a choice to make,” Eames says.

 

Despite Arthur’s attempt to get more details out of him, Eames remains silent. He only motions back to the bed, and the point man reluctantly obeys and lies back down. “Alright, close your eyes,” Eames instructs gently, and goes on to say something else. But Arthur doesn’t hear it anymore, he’s already gone.

 

The next time he opens his eyes, the fluorescent lights of a hospital room blind him for a second. It takes Arthur a moment to realise he’s lying on the floor, but then Eames is there, helping him up and keeping him steady as he takes a look at the figure in the actual bed. 

It’s him, his body at least. And on a chair next to the bed is Ariadne, with Cobb standing behind her, a hand on her shoulder. Both of them have bags under their eyes and look miserable. Arthur doesn’t look any better. He’s pale and too thin, with bandages all over. 

The only signs that he’s actually still alive are the regular beeping of the heart monitor and the even movements of his rising and falling chest.

 

“I don’t know what happened to you, darling, but it’s time to make a choice now,” Eames says evenly, his face carefully blank.  
“What choice?” Arthur asks faintly, eyes still trained on Ariadne, Cobb, and himself.  
“Whether you fight or you go.”

 

When Arthur doesn’t reply, Eames elaborates. 

“It’s a choice everyone has to make, or at least so I’ve been told, when they have headed into their Soulspace. There is a slim chance that their body can fight off their impending end, if their will is strong enough. It rarely is though, no matter how much they want to live. Personally, I just think that we’re given a choice to give us this tiny sliver of hope, that we could make it. Only to have it taken from us when we’re fighting and notice that it’s completely in vain, and that Death tricked us, the twat."

Eames sounds incredibly bitter, and in that moment Arthur knows that’s the choice Eames had made. And that he had failed. 

“I tried to come back for you, darling. I tried so hard, but I just couldn’t. Forgive me for not being strong enough to come home to you again,” the forger whispers, voice thick with unshed tears.  
Arthur slots their fingers together and squeezes.  
“Would I be able to be with you again if I try and fail?” the American wants to know.  
Eames shakes his head.  
“No. Only if you chose to go, and leave everything behind”

 

Arthur turns to look at Eames, and pulls him into a soft kiss. The Englishman was, is, and always will be, the love of Arthur’s life. He then turns back to look at Ariadne and Cobb, and imagines what the three of them would do if he woke up. He smiles sadly to himself and then says:  
“I’ve made my choice.”

 

When someone asks you: “If Death were a person, what do you think they’d look like?” a lot of people might say that they don’t think Death has a face. That, whoever Death is, doesn’t show their face, to no one. That Death is just this terrifying force that takes you away against your will…  
What no one tells you until it’s your time is that, until your very last moment, you have a choice.

Death comes to Arthur on a Saturday morning, surrounded by the sleep-deprived Ariadne and Cobb. The choice Arthur had to make was between fighting for the people who meant so much to him, and being selfish.  
As he follows Eames out of the hospital into what looks like white fog, neither of them says a word. But their fingers are entwined tightly. The only sound that follows them is the echo of an even line on the heart monitor.  
Arthur had loved Ariadne and Cobb with all his life, but maybe, deep down, he had always been a selfish person. Because Death had come to Arthur in the shape of Eames, and, even in life, Arthur had never been able to resist Eames.


End file.
